


Stolen

by pandashurley



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 21:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandashurley/pseuds/pandashurley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Rich. Sherlock and John have loved each other for ages, though they have been at a stalemate. John hides Sherlock's cigarettes and gets him to do anything to get them back. Some angst, turns into some fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen

  
"Bloody hell, John! Where are they?!" Sherlock's voice echoed through the flat, waking John from his cozy slumber. A smile played across his face. This wasn't the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last that John had hid Sherlock's cigarettes.

"I'm sleeping, Sherlock..." He called back and rolled back over in bed. There was a flurry of commotion and John heard his door being slammed open.

"You do not talk in your sleep, you pestering prat. If you really were asleep, you wouldn't have answered. Now where in this abominable excuse for a room did you hide them?" Sherlock demanded. John almost laughed as he heard the drippings of a 3 year old having a tantrum in the taller man's voice. John rolled over, acting as if he was just waking up.

"What on earth are you going on about, Sherlock?" It was nearly impossible to hide the smile that had been creeping into his face. He had obviously been up all night, or this wouldn't be such an issue.

"You know bloody well what I'm going on about. You hid my cigarettes and I want to know where they are. Right this god damn minute!" Sherlock nearly shouted. John couldn't even hide his lack of surprise as the curse shot out of Sherlock's mouth.

"Are you telling me that I finally hid something so well that even the Great Sherlock Holmes is stumped?" John didn't even bother to hide the grin crossing his face as he finally sat up in bed. The blankets slipped down his chest to his waist, revealing a very bare doctor underneath.

"Ye..." Sherlock started before he saw the sheet slip down the man in bed. "Hell's bells, John! I can find anything, and you know that. There is just a distinct lack of data at the current moment!" Sherlock huffed, crossing to the foot of the bed and falling onto it like a child who didn't want to clean up his toys.

"'A distinct lack of data...' Hmmm..." John said, looking down at the collapsed man on his bed. "I'm sure you have the capability now to begin a line of inquiry..." John started and Sherlock snapped his head to John's direction. "While I make us both some tea." John said, the shit-eating grin cracking his face nearly in half. He stifled a laugh as Sherlock's face fell and his eyes began to smoulder.   
With the overgrown petulant child still flopped on his bed, John got up. He wasn't embarrassed that Sherlock was seeing him only in boxers, nor that he had a rather prominent erection that he was sporting that morning. John didn't really seem to care and was having more fun being hell bent on playing with Sherlock. Sherlock, on the other hand was sort of stilled and the emotions drained from his face. John could feel his flatmate staring as he readjusted himself calmly and pulled on some pajama pants and a t-shirt. He didn't have a dressing gown as nice as Sherlock's so he settled for a jumper, the black and white striped one.

"Come on then..." John said as he turned to walk out the room. Sherlock snorted and waited for John to leave. When John did, Sherlock rolled onto his back revealing a stunning erection of his own. Sherlock groaned as he readjusted himself to be more comfortable then set his mind to will away the image of John's cock straining in those boxers. When he realized that wouldn't work, he started composing a list of experiments he needed to try the next time he was at the morgue. In moments he was able to push himself up and follow John into the kitchen.

******

Sherlock had been asking questions for hours. John had already made tea, which Sherlock didn't drink because he had been pestering John. John made breakfast, which Sherlock didn't eat because a rather impressive string of insults and threats had been pouring out of his mouth. John took a shower that was quiet until Sherlock burst in, checking the bathroom again and berating John about the importance of personal items.

"Those cigarettes were mine, John. You know Mycroft only lets me have whole packs as often as dishes run away with spoons or some such nonsense." John laughed as he toweled himself dry. Sherlock had stopped making sense some time ago. John realized that he should probably feel bad, making a deranged man even crazier. He didn't.

"I understand, Sherlock. But like I told you before, if you want to smoke in the flat, you have to clean up after yourself. I'm tired of finding empty tea mugs full of ash and cigarette butts. As a doctor, you know how I feel about you smoking in general..." John trailed off, walking back to his room. He felt Sherlock tag along behind him like a puppy.

"But Joooooooohn..." Sherlock had finally started whining. John couldn't help but admit he liked hearing the stoic man beg every once in a while.

"No but's, Sherlock Holmes. What happened to that ashtray you stole from the palace? You could have used that." John asked as he started pulling some clothes out of his drawers. It looked like they were going to stick around the flat today, no reason to dress himself properly.

"Broke..." Sherlock murmured, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his face fall into a pout.

"Well then. They aren't that expensive. You could always go out and get a new one." John said, letting the towel drop from his hips, leaving him stark naked in front of his pouting flatmate. 'Ah, momentary silence...' John sighed. He glanced over at Sherlock, who's eyes were nearly popping out of his head. John had no shame at this moment, feeling Sherlock's eyes skating over his naked body.

They had finally gotten back to being friends after the whole fall, and John was taking plenty of liberties these days. He still remembered that tall lanky git sitting on the couch one day when he got home from surgery. At first, John was mad. Incredibly mad. It had been at least two years since Sherlock had been gone at that point. John had wasted time sending texts, posting comments on Sherlock's dead blog, begging him to come back. He remembered wanting to punch that angular face before Sherlock had pulled him into a hug, clinging onto John, initially saying nothing.

_I love you, John. I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you._ The words still echoed in John's mind when he was alone. Sherlock hadn't said anything like that since, but John could always feel the words straining to get out of the man. John hadn't said anything back to him like that, but his feelings were more than mutual. He tried to date while Sherlock was gone, but no one could quite hold his interest. Not one woman, or man for that matter, was nearly as insane, captivating or challenging as Mister Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. 

The tension between them, however, had been mounting to such a palpable state in recent weeks. Something was about to give, and dammit, John was going to enjoy it. He had spent the last few months dreaming of his flatmate in almost every way possible. John shook his head gently as he remembered all the dreams he had that were almost Fight Club-esque, destroying that beautiful face that had haunted him for so long.

"Are you just going to keep staring, Sherlock? Or are you going to keep asking me questions?" John asked, turning around to face him. Sherlock was obviously flushed and the shade of crimson deepened as he say the front of John. "See something you like?" John asked with a smile.

Sherlock snapped his head up and cold, steely grey met his own icy blue. There was something in those eyes that John couldn't identify. Desire? Confusion? Lust? John searched all possibilities but was coming up with nothing. Sherlock was silent but in the process of unraveling himself, John noticed that the front of his pajamas had become rather tented. John smirked and put his hands on his naked hips.

"How long?" John asked him, raising one eyebrow and didn't specify.

"Wh-what?" Sherlock stammered. John threw his head back into a loud, almost mocking laugh.

"You heard me, Mr. Holmes. How. Long?" He asked, taking a step towards Sherlock with each of the last two words.

"How long what, John. You're going to have to be more specific..." Sherlock said quietly, trying to keep up his biting image that was faltering due to his voice being so soft. And his eyes trained directly to John's cock.

"How long have you wanted to see me naked?" John asked, walking towards him and closing the room sized gap between them. Sherlock was silent, his eyes said he was calculating more or less down to the second to give John an accurate answer. John was about a foot away from the man when he asked, "How long have you wanted to touch me?" His voice was low, almost seductive.

Sherlock's eyes nearly popped from his skull a second time that morning. He was obviously confused and... something else John still couldn't identify. This man would be impossible to beat at poker, John thought with a smile.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about." Sherlock said in a tone barely above a whisper. When the man had no desire to make you believe his lie, he was honestly shit at it. John laughed again.

"You cheeky fucker! That lie wasn't the least bit convincing..." John said, now slowly circling the statuesque man. "Now..." John said, lifting a hand to run along the back of Sherlock's shoulders and circling around to his front, letting his hand rest on the wiry muscle of his arm. "Tell me the truth." Sherlock's arms were covered in goosebumps and he was panting ever so slightly.

"Tell me now, Sherlock. It's not a request." John demanded, dropping his hand from the other man's shoulder.

"Three..." Sherlock's voice faltered and he cleared his throat. "Three years, seven months, twelve days, eight hours, thirty-two minutes, fifty-seven seconds." John rewarded him by closing the gap between them from a foot to more or less six inches. The difference was incredible. John could feel heat and desire pouring off the other man's body like sweat.

"You're a fucking time keeper now?" John asked, looking into his eyes. Sherlock could only nod. John was amazed at how silent Sherlock was being.

"What are you willing to do for you cigarettes, Sherlock?" John gently placed a hand on one of Sherlock's pectoral muscles, feeling it made out of rock and wire. He had a feeling if he pressed, he would be able to feel the man's prominent ribcage. He watched Sherlock's eyes dart around, and softly close. His eyes were still moving under his eyelids and John slid his hand up to cup the bottom of Sherlock's jaw. "You have thirty seconds to tell me, or I will never tell you where they are." John almost whispered. He felt Sherlock's breath hitch so John stood a little on the balls of his feet to reach the taller man's ear. He purposefully made sure his lips would graze against Sherlock's ear as he whispered, "Because I don't give a fuck if you tear this whole stupid flat apart trying to find them. I'll laugh as you slowly lose your mind..." John pulled back and pecked Sherlock on the cheek.

"John... I-I..." Sherlock managed to stammer out.

"Twenty seconds..." John murmured, kissing along his angular jaw line.

"I-I-I..." Sherlock groaned and shifted toward John, who shifted away at the same time.

"Ten... nine..." John was kissing down his neck now, toward his collar bone. Sherlock let a deep moan crawl out of him.

"Eight... seven... six..." Every word was followed by a gentle kiss placed on that pale skin.

"Five..." John nipped and Sherlock bucked and hissed air through his teeth.

"Four... Three... Two..." Each word now followed by bites, the next a little harder than the last. John was about to open his mouth to say one when he felt warm hands grab his shoulders. He looked up into Sherlock's eyes, which now had been completely swallowed by his pupils. Only a small ring of grey remained.

"Fucking hell, John. Anything. I'll do anything." His deep voice was mixed with heat and lust, despite the growl of frustration in his voice. 

"Anything? Are you sure you want to commit to anything?" John asked, a smile not only on his face but twinkling in his eyes. Mischievous and daring. Sherlock just nodded. Finally. John had been waiting for this. For the submission. For Sherlock to finally give into the three years of longing they had for each other. John pulled himself away from Sherlock by mere inches and placed a hand over the stubborn man's heart.

"If you do everything I say, when I say it, I will give you your cigarettes back." John said with as much assurance as he could muster. He had been preparing for this. Last night when he hid the cigarettes, he had planned for this. Albeit was a farfetched plan, but in knowing Sherlock Holmes, being unprepared was an absolute travesty. "Now strip, get down on your knees by the end of the bed and wait for me." John commanded. Thank the gods Mrs. Hudson is on holiday this weekend. John thought. Sherlock looked back at him with confusion in his lusty eyes.

"Go on, then." John said, moving back from him and crossing his arms over his chest. Sherlock's brain was running a million miles a second, that much was obvious from the look on his face. He was flushed, his pupils blown, his eyes rapidly searching not only John's face but his own mind as well. But Sherlock hadn't moved. John sighed and spun back toward his wardrobe. 

"You always have to choose the hard way, don't you?" John asked, grabbing the riding crop he stole from the living room last night and spinning back around. He brought it up to Sherlock's cheek and tilted his head slightly. "I said, strip." He caressed Sherlock's face with the gently worn leather. "If I have to tell you again..." John pulled the riding crop from his face and circled around to the back of him, tapping the head of the crop against Sherlock's well formed ass. "I won't hesitate to let you feel my frustration." He smacked the crop across both cheeks, hard enough to make a point but soft enough so that it wouldn't hurt the man.  
Sherlock jumped forward. John watched his cock bounce a little against his silky pajama bottoms. Sherlock then started to take off his shirt. John frowned and walked back towards the front of him to show his displeasure. 

"Oh no no no..." John said clicking his tongue. He walked over to the bed to sit down, pulling one leg underneath himself as he did so. "I said strip, not remove your clothing like a robot." John smirked, ready for the show. Sherlock turned an even deeper shade of blush, and John wondered how he had enough blood in that stringy body to fill his face and his cock at the same time.

Sherlock gulped and ran his hands through his hair, closing his eyes. His lips parted slightly as he dragged his hands down the back of his neck and onto his chest, sliding them down to the hem of his shirt. He teased it upwards, John licking his lips as he caught a glimpse of that creamy skin and seeing it lightly dusted with dark black curls near the tops of his pajamas. John watched as his long fingers traced that light smattering of curls and as he hooked his thumbs into the tops of his pajamas, John let out an appreciative moan.

"I can't wait to taste that skin..." John said, loud enough that Sherlock could hear it spurring him to continue. "I'm going to mark you, Sherlock. Keep going... I want to see all that is going to be mine." He watched Sherlock's cock jump at the word 'mine.'

"You love that idea, don't you?" John asked. "Me calling you mine?" Sherlock nodded, still tracing his musculature through his t-shirt. "Come closer." John said, beckoning him. Sherlock stepped closer, but keeping a foot of distance, trying to tease John as well. John chuckled. "Shirt." John slid the head of the crop up underneath the slightly grey from too much wear shirt and pushed it upwards. Sherlock took the cue and pulled his shirt off in one swift move. John hissed in a breath. Fucking... holy Christ. John thought. Sherlock's skin was perfection. Alabaster, porcelain and his scattered scars were the a pale rosy pink against the marble. John steeled himself against pulling the man on top of him that moment. This was the first time for either of them to explore the other, and John was going to make it last. Sherlock hooked his thumbs into the waist of his pajamas and shifted them down so they were riding seductively low, more of his pubic hair showing. The man's body was looking like he was carved that way. His muscle definition was astounding. 

"You're so sexy, Sherlock." John brought his hand up to caress the taller man's stomach. "The things I am going to do to you..." He smiled and hummed at himself while still caressing the man in front of him. The muscles were hard, but still pliable. His obliques framed him out and that's exactly where John wanted to put his tongue. "Is it true?" John asked. Sherlock paused and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you a virgin?" John asked, placing an unexpected but chaste kiss right below his bellybutton. Sherlock hissed and bucked forward a little. "No..." He managed to gasp out. It was John's turn to be surprised.

"Honestly?" John asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes and smiled. "John, just because I don't go chasing after everything with a pulse, doesn't mean I haven't indulged from time to time." The sound of his voice seemed to echo in John's stomach and vibrated straight into his cock. John moaned and pressed his fingers into Sherlock's hips. Knowing that he was going to be the last man to ever fuck the World's Only Consulting Detective was even better than being the first.

"Take off your pajamas, kneel by the edge of the bed." John managed to fight the words out, making them sound like a frustrated growl. He needed to go back to the bathroom, he had hid the lube in there. He had meant to buy condoms, but John thought it unnecessary. He had been tested several times after Sherlock had left and it was a simple matter of looking up the man's medical records at St. Bart's to find they were both clean. He cursed himself for not bringing it with him when he left the bathroom after his shower. He walked out of the room naked, leaving Sherlock in his room most likely confused.

Sherlock realized he had taken the riding crop with him and was finally able to breathe in a shaky breath. What was happening? He wondered. Sherlock wasn't going to deny that he had wanted this for a long time. He had even admitted to John how long it was... down to the second. He heard John walking through the flat, confidently. Sherlock shivered. Something good was happening and he didn't even care about his cigarettes anymore. He hooked his thumbs back into the waistband of his pajamas and silently slid them down until they could fall off on their own. He stepped out of them and kicked them to where his shirt was. He then did what he was told and kneeled at the foot of the bed, looking up at the door and waiting for John to return.

**********

John slid himself elegantly back into his bedroom and stilled as he saw a naked Sherlock kneeling at the end of his bed. He hummed in appriciation, seeing the naked man look up into his eyes. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but John just lightly shook his head and those heart shaped lips snapped closed. John slowly approached him, and Sherlock saw the riding crop in one hand and a bottle in the other. He gasped quietly. John smiled and locked into those crisp grey pools.

"You know what's going to happen, don't you?" He asked. Sherlock shook his head. A simply wicked smile crossed over John's lips. John crossed to him and bent forward so his lips were millimeters away from Sherlock's ear. "I am going to destroy you for all other men... I am going to claim you. I am going to mark you. I am not going to stop until I am happy." John promised, licking the outer edge of his ear. Sherlock let out a wicked moan and shivered. John stood, his cock right in front of Sherlock's face.  
He raised an eyebrow and saw Sherlock swallow and lick his lips. John let out an unholy growl as those long cool fingers wrapped around his cock, and a wet tongue ran itself against the slit. He let his head roll back as he stood there and Sherlock took the cue to wrap his lips around the head of John's cock. John hissed and threw the lube on the bed, otherwise occupying his hand into those dark black curls. Sherlock slipped more of John's cock into his waiting mouth, and John didn't even try to keep from bucking his hips into that slick heat. 

"Fucking hell, Sherlock. This is better than I imagined." He felt Sherlock shift and he groaned. "Yes, I've imagined you for so long like this. Pretty lips wrapped around my cock, like a little fucking whore." John snarled, pushing himself into Sherlock's mouth a little more. Sherlock moaned around his cock. 

"Oohh, like being called a fucking whore, do you?" John asked, tightening his grip on Sherlock's hair and pulling him off his cock with a sloppy sound. "Answer me." He demanded, staring into those grey eyes.

"Y-yes..." Sherlock answered, quietly. John chuckled. 

"Then show me what a little fucking whore like you can really do... " John said, pulling Sherlock's head back toward his cock. Sherlock opened his mouth and swallowed the whole thing. John fought to not come completely undone as he felt the whole of him slide into Sherlock's mouth and let out a deep groan when he felt the head of his cock hit the back of that silky throat.

"Fuck, Sherlock..." John whispered as he slowly started to fuck that pretty mouth. Sherlock's lips were already slightly swollen and red, his hollowed cheeks just sucking him in deeper and John wondered how that was possible. "I'm gonna enjoy fucking this pretty face of yours, over and over again." John said lovingly as he stroked the head of the riding crop against one of those cheeks. Sherlock moaned and John felt it vibrate down his cock and right up his spine. 

John watched in fascination as Sherlock slid his mouth on and off John's rock hard cock. Suddenly, those grey eyes opened and looked into his own crystal blues. John almost stumbled back as they locked eyes and he could see the heady want in those eyes. John tightened his grip in Sherlock's hair and pulled him off his cock for a second time. He let the riding crop fall to the floor and he offered both his hands out for Sherlock to take. Those cool, slender hands slid into his and John grasped them, pulling him off the floor. He released one hand, put it on the taller man's chest and slowly pushed him down on the bed. Sherlock sat, still clinging to one of John's hands. He was trembling.

"Sherlock, I need to be honest with you." John started. Sherlock just looked at him. John sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. 

"I was broken after you jumped. I know we haven't talked about this much, but I need to say this before this goes any further. I was broken. My heart broke, my brain broke... And so did my spirit." John shuddered out a sigh, tears prickling the backs of his eyes. "For weeks I would find myself walking to your grave and talking to you, begging you to come back to me. Telling you how much I loved you. How much I missed you. I wrote you letters..." John paused, making brief eye contact with the man still sitting in front of him. John pulled his arm slightly so he would move over and John could sit down. 

"You didn't know that, did you?" John asked. Sherlock kept his mouth shut, but shook his head. "I fell apart after you jumped, Sherlock. I fell apart and there was no one here to put me back together..." John trailed off. He sniffled slightly then wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist to pull him onto his lap. Sherlock yelped at the sudden movement but fluidly straddled John's lap so they were facing one another. They both moaned in tandem as their cocks brushed against each other for the first time. It looked like it completely took the breath out of the man sitting on John's lap.

"And now it's your turn..." John rumbled. "I am going to tear you apart and pull you back together everyday..." He twisted his hands back into those dark curls. "Only so I can do it as many times as I want." Sherlock lifted his eyes. They were actually shiny with tears.

"Oh... John..." He managed to choke out before tackling the army man to the bed and devouring his mouth, kissing him with such wild abandon that John's breath was stolen from his chest. Sherlock's tongue invaded his mouth, tasting him like he was trying to catalog exactly what John tasted like at that moment. John could taste the hint of salt and realized Sherlock's face was wet with tears. This caused John to wrap his arms around the naked man above him, pressing them flush against each other. John's game was quickly forgotten and it was replaced by three years, seven months, twelve days, nine hours, fourteen minutes and forty-two seconds worth of longing. Sherlock broke this kiss, panting and deep sobs kept him from gasping in air.

"Fuck, John. I am... sorry doesn't even begin to... I just..." Tears flowed down his face and he buried them in John's shoulder. John stroked his back lazily, content for a second having this man here, even though he had pictured Sherlock and him fucking by now. John sighed deeply and shifted his shoulder. Sherlock dragged his head up back into John's vision. John cupped one hand on either cheek and pressed a kiss against his lips. He then kissed him again, searching with his tongue for passage through those lips. Sherlock let him in again, and John pressed his ever present erection into Sherlock's eliciting a deep moan from the man on top of him.

"Not here... Not now..." John whispered, thrusting against him again, making them both shudder. Sherlock just nodded and their lips were connected again. John shifted his weight and suddenly Sherlock's back was pressed against the bed and John was in between his legs. A moan ripped from Sherlock's body as reached down and tangled their fingers together, bringing it up next to Sherlock's head and started biting and sucking down that long neck.

"Fuck me into the mattress, John. Please... claim me. Make me yours." Sherlock begged in between moans and thrusts. As soon as the words spilled from his lips, John found a nice spot on Sherlock's pretty skin to start biting, sucking, pulling away to already see a purple mark growing there. John moaned with abandon and pushed himself up.

"Let's actually get on the bed then, shall we?" John asked. The both scrambled to a more central location on the bed and John grabbed the lube, placing it close by. John wrapped his hand around Sherlock's cock and stroked up once, purely to collect all the leaking precum and then started to stroke the man writhing beneath him. The moans and gasps were falling from those swollen, heart shaped lips like water. John was going to take his time and watch every reaction that this man made. He wanted to memorize every detail because he already knew how it hurt to lose him once. He wasn't going to spend days wondering if he ever lost him again.  
Sherlock's hips were bucking into his fist with urgency, and John leaned down to lick the head of Sherlock's dripping cock. The scream that came out of him had been held in for too long. John's whole body felt the shock and he smiled as he wrapped his mouth around Sherlock's cock. Instantly, those long fingers were tangling themselves in his hair and his hips rocked with wild abandon. 

"J-John!" Sherlock gasped. John moaned around Sherlock's cock and opened his eyes in time to see Sherlock's whole body arch off the bed. With his eyes still trained on Sherlock, he felt one hand leave his hair and search around for the lube. John slid his mouth off that perfect cock and beat Sherlock to finding it. Sherlock snapped his gaze to John who had the bottle popped open and was gently warming some in his hands already. Sherlocks eyes fluttered closed as John's hand slowly wrapped around his cock again.

"Knees..." John began, but Sherlock was far more than ready to hear that. Sherlock grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved it underneath his hips, angling himself up for John. John smiled and hummed in appriciation as he gently brought a lubed finger to that tight little ring of muscle. One gentle prod had Sherlock moaning and pressing into John for more. Between the hand on his cock and the fingers teasing him was causing a very obvious struggle to happen in his body. So John let that slender cock fall from his hand and instead brought it to his own and started stroking lazily. 

John pushed a finger and was surprised to see the muscle give way so easily. Sherlock must have read his mind because his face turned bright red. As John continued to explore this hot and tight new area of Sherlock, he was almost floored to find that Sherlock was a little stretched already.

"You're not the only one who has sexual urges, John." Sherlock interrupted matter-of-factly. John slipped his two other fingers in with relative easy. A huge smile broke across his face.

"You are a dirty fucking whore, Sherlock Holmes!" John laughed and spread the rest of the lube that was on his hands all over his cock. "I am going to enjoy this..." John said, positioning himself. Sherlock moaned as he felt the heat of John's cock pressed up against him.

"Stop teasing and fuck me already!" Sherlock half shouted and half moaned. The head slipped into Sherlock and both of their moans were loud and unabashed. John inched himself in deeper and watched in fascination as Sherlock's face changed. It took moments for John to be fully buried in the heat of Sherlock and he wasn't ready to move yet. He bent down to Sherlock's ear and whispered, "Again, bitch. Say it again." Sherlock twisted and moaned.

"For the love of the Fucking Queen, John Watson. You promised to fuck me into this mattress, now if you would please shag me sensless, I would be much obliged!" Sherlock said, the annoyance in his voice clear as a bell. John tisked at him. 

"Ask... nicely..." John pushed his hips in a circle, grinding himself into Sherlock, making sure to brush his cock just shy of Sherlock's swollen prostate. Sherlock gasped and his eyes snapped open wide. He cleared his throat.

"Please John..." He whispered into John's ear, taking a split second to lick at his earlobe. "Fuck me... fill me... take me..." Sherlock begged, rocking himself on John. John captured Sherlock's lips with his own, tenderly this time.

"As you wish..." John chuckled and started to slide himself in and out of Sherlock. They both moaned together, all the want and need and fire suddenly exploding out of the both of them. Sherlock wrapped his long, strong legs around John as he pushed achingly slow in and out of him. Sherlock's mouth had just dropped open and John was staring at his face in awe as he felt Sherlock clench and release around him.

The pace was slow at first, both of them feeling more than fucking. Getting used to the sensation and touching, grasping, gasping and moaning for each other with every thrust. Sherlock's back was arching every time John pushed against his prostate. 

"Sherlock... you feel..." And John picked up the pace, unable to control himself anymore and letting his body go. Then gentle lovemaking from seconds before was replaced with frantic need. The years of teasing had built up and the wall was about to come crashing down around them both. John took both of Sherlock's hands and tangled their fingers together as John did exactly what he had promised. He was pushing Sherlock further into the mattress with every strong and direct push, moaning roughly as the man beneath him began to tense.

"John... I'm going to... You're going to make me..." Sherlock gasped, squeezing John's hands as John picked up the pace, hitting that sweet spot every. Single. Time. John bit Sherlock's ear, then his neck, and gently suckled on his collar bone. Dipping down and flicking his tongue over a nipple to be rewarded with a strangled moan. He took the nub of sensitive flesh between his teeth and ran his tongue over the nipple in his mouth. He then repeated on the other side. Sherlock's body was getting tighter, his hole clenching more and more around John and suddenly John was slamming into him, wanting them to cum together.

The moans gathered together like a symphony, both of them panting and near screaming. Sherlock was getting tighter and John was having trouble holding on to this side of conciousness. Pounding into Sherlock with wild disregard, he felt the man beneath him still and he heard his own name ripped out of him like an exorcism. Sherlock's body clamped down on him and he heard Sherlock babbling. 

"Cum in me, John, I need to feel it..." He panted. "Cum for me... John!" And he screamed again as John came, pulsing hot and thick buried deep inside him. John felt his own orgasm like a shotgun blast, whiting out his vision, and he collapsed onto Sherlock's chest. He was panting like he just ran a marathon. 

For a moment, neither of them moved. Their bodies had spun out from under them and as they were slowly coming back to sanity, Sherlock untangled his hands from John's and wrapped his long arms around the man shuddering on his chest. John looked up when he heard a small sniffle and saw tears falling from Sherlock's eyes. On shaky arms, John pushed himself up to look into the eyes of the man he loved with a silent question.

"No one, ever has made me feel like that, John Watson." He coughed lightly and sniffled again, trying to blink the steady stream of tears away. "I have never felt so complete..." He trailed off and tried to catch the sob that was trying to force it's way out. "And I will never ever leave you feeling empty again." John started kissing his jaw line, licking away the trails of tears and wiping away with gentle finger tips he couldn't reach.

Sherlock captured his hand and used it to wipe up some of his own tears before running his lips against the tear stained pads of John's fingers. At this moment, Sherlock looked so undone and shattered. John didn't feel pity or empathy, he finally felt whole. They had shattered each other so completely and in the last hour had build each other back just to collapse again. 

What had started off as payback, or some twisted form of revenge for John had morphed into the single most important moment in his life time. They laid there, John more or less still inside Sherlock. John licking, kissing and wiping away Sherlock's tears and Sherlock refusing to relinquish his hold on John. 

Finally when all the pieces of themselves were back in place, when Sherlock's tears had finally stopped falling, when John had finally slid out of him, they were still laying there. John on top of Sherlock, pressing chaste kisses into whatever creamy skin he could find. Their hands tangled together and untangled again. Neither of them had spoken in a long while. John didn't want to move, but his shoulder had finally started protesting and so he rolled off of Sherlock and onto his side, making sure to pull Sherlock flush with him again. Sherlock reached for the sheet and cocooned them together, trapping their body heat and musk as John slowly stroked the side of his face.

"Sherlock..." John began, taking a deep breath. Sherlock's eyes were rimmed in red slightly, and every so often, he would sniffle again. 

"No more confessions, John. I do not imagine I could embarrass myself further." John smirked, knowing that the man who never had emotions who just spent the last 20 minutes crying would say something like that. "I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to steal so much from you when I..." He was trying to think of the right word and settled on "...left."

"Sherlock, you had stolen my heart long before that. I just didn't know you would take it with you..." John chuckled quietly. "I always thought you would have just thrown it back in my face at some point..." John's thought trailed off as he saw Sherlock smile. 

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes." John whispered, pressing his lips against his love's. 

"I love you too, John Watson." Sherlock murmured in reply. John shifted onto his back and invited Sherlock to snuggle up closer, which he did. Sherlock and John laid there, lazily stroking what skin they could reach, both basking in the warm after glow.

Neither of them spoke for a long while, just content to be with each other for real this time. John had closed his eyes and was dozing slightly. Happy to have a warm, loving body pressed up against him.

"John...?" Sherlock finally broke the silence. John hummed that he heard him, not opening his eyes and continued to stroke the taller man's spine absentmindedly.

"If it isn't too much trouble, can you please tell me where my cigarettes are now?" Sherlock asked. John's eyes snapped open and he started to laugh. He pushed Sherlock away from him and grabbed the pillow from behind his head and proceeded to start pummeling Sherlock with it. Sherlock was laughing as well, trying to block the blows from the pillow with his hands.

"You... insufferable... git!" John said every word loudly and echoed it with a rather rough pillow hit. He left the pillow over Sherlock and collapsed into laughter. "I mean, I suppose you deserve one, after me shagging your brains all over the floor..." John smiled and picked up the pillow to see Sherlock doubled over in laughter. 

"How long have you been waiting to ask?" John wondered, smoothing a few rumpled curls from Sherlock's forehead. 

"Twelve minutes, thirty-nine seconds..." Sherlock calculated. John sighed with a smile on his face. 

"I'm surprised you haven't deduced it by now, you prat." John huffed, running fingers over his newly found lover's sharp cheek. 

"I looked everywhere. The fridge, the cabinets, my bedroom. For heaven's sake, John, the only reason I came to ask you was because I was considering shattering my violin to look inside!" Sherlock said and started laughing.

"Now I don't want to tell you because I don't want to get dressed and I know you'll go dashing off to get them..." John pouted. He looked at Sherlock who had now sat up and was giving John a look that could only be described as Sherlock's version of sad puppy eyes. John sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, exasperated.

"My third coat, on the coat rack, front right pocket." John confessed and slammed himself down on the bed, waiting for the inevitable shift in weight as Sherlock got off the bed.

"Very creative, John. I'll have to add that to my places to look in the future..." Sherlock said as he snuggled back into John's shoulder. John hid his shock and just pulled that tall, graceful git tighter into his arms and went back to dozing softly against his silky black curls.  
  



End file.
